‘Guess not,’ Bailey replied, still trying to ascertain if there was a special, and possibly unpleasant, reason for this meeting.

Her eyes settled on a fluffy heart-shaped cushion with the letter ‘T’ embroidered on it which was lying on the bunk. It looked incongruous in the context of the other items in the cell.

Toni noticed her looking at it. She picked it up and tilted her head wistfully, gazing at the blank wall in front of them. She was silent for a few moments, then she spoke in a soft, almost tender voice, holding the cushion to her chest.

‘I miss him you know.’

‘Who?’

‘My baby.’

Bailey was surprised. Maybe she’d misjudged Toni. But then most of the inmates in here seemed to have kids, so why should Toni be any exception?

‘Where is he now?’ she asked gently, imagining that he was probably in care or had even been put up for adoption.

‘He’s dead,’ said Toni.

‘Oh… I’m so sorry.’

‘The police shot him.’

‘What?! The police shot your baby?!’

‘I’d only let him off the lead for five minutes.’

The penny dropped. ‘Oh…’

‘My pit bull. His name was Taser. My baby.’ Toni looked down at the cushion. ‘I made this in craft class so I’d never forget him. The love of my life… gone forever.’

‘That’s… uh… sad.’

‘It was totally unnecessary. He would have let go of that kid eventually.’ Her face turned sour. ‘Bastards!’

She sighed and shook her head, then placed the cushion to one side and turned to look at Bailey.

‘Anyway, down to business.’

Toni glanced around furtively, then beckoned Bailey closer.

‘I want to tell you something,’ she whispered. Her flint-coloured eyes gave nothing away. They were dead and calm, like the sea before a storm.

Bailey leaned in slowly.

Suddenly Toni grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head backwards so her throat was exposed. She felt the sharp filed edge of a shank pressing into the side of her neck. It had appeared out of nowhere.

Bailey froze, her heart thumping hard, her mouth dry. She swallowed and even that small movement of her throat caused the blade to bite into the skin of her neck. She held her breath, barely gasping, barely able to even speak.

‘This is your carotid artery,’ whispered Toni in her ear, stroking the edge of the blade up and down the left side of Bailey’s neck just beneath her ear. ‘It’s responsible for carrying oxygenated blood from your heart to your head. If I cut it open right now, your blood would pump out in big jets at five litres a minute. That’s a lot of blood. You wouldn’t last very long.’

‘I see you’ve been reading up on your human anatomy,’ whispered Bailey hoarsely, trying to make light of the situation in an attempt to mask her fear.

She’d only just begun to feel better following her beating from her brutal initiation into the gang. She didn’t fancy a whole new set of injuries.